


Atomic Cat-astrophe

by PoisonJack



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, General au, M/M, jack you're an asshole but its sweet you take care of your bf right haha, tim is old cat-lady goals 3k18 LOLOL, tim's love for cats is like... right where its at
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 06:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16948767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonJack/pseuds/PoisonJack
Summary: Tim regularly visits a cat cafe secretly while on his downtime. Jack finds out, and gives in to get him a kitten. Also on my tumblrhere.This was an older work on tumblr I'm migrating over here, from a request:Is there any possible way you could write something really short about Tim getting therapy via room full of mewling kittens, just like pure fluff, literally and figuratively. Thank, also ur a super chill person.





	Atomic Cat-astrophe

**Author's Note:**

> Tim is pretty much my future as a cat-mother HAHA you do you babycakes.

As someone whose every waking hour was dedicated to looking like Handsome Jack, speaking like Handsome Jack, and thinking like Handsome Jack, the wants and desires of a technically non-existent Timothy Lawrence were actually rather simple to sum up.

The three things Timothy Lawrence wanted in life were simple: Timothy Lawrence, Timothy Lawrence holding kittens, and pictures of cats.

Being Jack’s body double sadly didn’t afford him the time to dedicate to keeping a cat. Oh, Jack more than allowed it, but he said from day one that he wouldn’t be the one feeding Tim’s cat when he was out on missions, and he _sure_ as hell wouldn’t be cleaning its litter box. 

Tim’s existence in itself didn’t lend to him having to many trustworthy compatriots to take over said duties, so he could only dream of a warm, shaggy cat getting it’s fur all over the place and mewing at him for treats. With no one to watch over a cat while he was away for Jack only knew how long, he couldn’t bear the idea of some emergency or something coming up and the cat being all alone. A warm fluffy friend was simply not in the plans.

_That_ situation led to Tim’s apartment wall above his desk being filled with cat posters, his computer filled with cat videos, and his desk loaded with cat knick-knacks and bobble-heads that really didn’t compare to the real thing.  


They were all super cute, and he gushed every time he added something new to his kitty collection, but he often found himself asking what the point even was when he was gone too much to enjoy the simple pleasures of a debt-ridden doppleganger.

Jack said that if Tim was having trouble coping or dealing with the stress of his job, that he was _always_ welcome to do some creative bending over the front of the older man’s desk. Preferably with no pants on, and his voiced concerns echoing off the walls.

That option being shot down, the older man shockingly suggested some light therapy.

“Can’t have my best double going bonkers. I don’t know what kind of shit you’d even _have_ to be stressed over– I mean, being me is freakin’ _awesome_ \- but I don’t need you losing your edge, kitten.”

While not what Jack had intended, the little suggestion of stress-relief and the endearment had gotten Tim to thinking. While not a _real_ doctor, Professor Fluffers down at the cat cafe on Elpis had helped Tim cope with the stress of his job before– by giving the professor ample tuna treats and watching him try to get a string that Tim dragged across the floor.

It was spring on Elips– or as close to a ‘spring’ season as a moon would ever get- and the _Atomic Cat-Astrophe_ cafe had a ton of new kittens just waiting for all the love and cuddles Tim could possibly lay on them.

With carte-blanche on his time limit and Jack’s own face, Tim had the entire cafe closed to himself– and the fifteen or so new kittens competing for his attention with the older, senior cats.

He was sure that if Jack could see him right now, the older man would be making noises of disgust for the ridiculous voices and expressions on his face for how Tim lavished affection on the cats. The kittens mewled loudly, demanding milk and climbing up his pants and jacket with their little needle claws, tiny rat tails trying to keep their balance as they made their way up his sides.

He nuzzled each one he detached, their little bodies fully cupped in the palms of his large hands, trying to buy their patience long enough to serve up the milk to greedy little mouths and tiny paws stepping in dishes. He could feel the sting where sharp baby-claws had punctured his skin in their climbing, and they were getting milk everywhere as they uncoordinatedly jostled one another in purring slurps as they drank. Tim treasured every second of it.

Professor Fluffers was head-butting his leg, purring and begging for attention, and Tim sat amidst them all for maximum cat-petting per square-foot. He was glad no one was there to witness the cutesy kissy noises and baby-talk he gave the cats as he encouraged the kittens to share, and for the professor and Doctor Whiskers to get the string he dragged across the floor. Tim was in hog-heaven– er, cat heaven- as his ears were full of the pleased sounds of purring and chirruping, hands full of fluffy fur and string and ear-scritches of trusting, tiny cats everywhere he could reach.

“You are not serious.”

Tim started, looking behind himself in shock to see Jack– the _real_ Jack- standing there with hands on his hips and something of a judgmental, unimpressed look aimed down where Tim sat. 

The double felt his face grow hot, ignoring that the professor had wrested the string from his hand and was now carrying it back to his perch with a triumphant air; that a kitten was climbing his arm like a tree and demanding his attention with cries and claws. How focused had he been on the cats to not even notice Jack’s presence? To not hear the cheerful bell on the door, or the slap of the older man’s boots on the tile? He felt his face grow that much hotter.

“I had to see what was so great that you ignore my calls for two hours, and _this_ is what I find.” Jack let out a laugh as he detached the small kitten that reached Tim’s shoulder, clutching the mewling thing with a large, warm hand to his chest while he snickered down at Tim. “If anyone ever saw that look on my face, I’d have to sell the company and go into hiding. That, or shoot everyone into the sun.” The older man snorted as another kitten started it’s journey up Tim’s arm, and he gave the one against his chest some chin scratches as his face broke into a grin. “This is what you’re spending my money on, huh pumpkin?”

“You told me I could get therapy.” Tim finally found his voice as another kitten’s claws found his skin. He winced and pulled the thing off to unrepentantly stroke it. “This is what works for me.”

Jack laughed. “So Dr. Whiskers isn’t just another weird-ass scientist.” Tim wrinkled his nose at the thought and gave the good doctor a look from where he was swishing his tail and observing the two on his cat tree next to the professor, watching Jack warily. “That’s a relief, kitten.”

Tim actually rolled his eyes at that while Jack acted like he’d just made the world’s funniest joke. The CEO wiped a non-existent tear from the corner of his eye before handing the unruly-kitten in his other hand back to his double.

“Okay baby, I can’t take the risk of those dumbass faces you’re making being released on the public. You’ll destroy my whole badass sexy-hero thing I’ve got going and I’ll never get laid again.” Tim gave him a frown, but Jack only grinned. “You can pick out one– just _one_ \- and I’ll reprogram a loader or some shit to look after it while you’re doing badass hero stuff for me. Make sure it doesn’t croak or nothing.”

Tim was gaping at the older man, ignoring the way Professor Fluffers was back and shoving his head into Tim’s hand, trying to steal the double’s attention away from Jack and back onto himself. Tim absently scratched the cat as his brain tried to wrap around what Jack had just said and if he’d even heard him right as he stared up at the CEO.

“Close that mouth or I’ll put something in it, gorgeous.”

“I can really have one? Really Jack? _For real_?”

The older man was smug and entirely self-satisfied, but that hardly mattered to Tim. Jack was allowing him a cat _and_ care for it. That was more than he’d ever expected. 

“That’s right cupcake. So long as you never make those faces in public again. You’ll destroy my reputation.”

Tim had stopped listening already and was eyeing the new kittens. He had his favorites to be sure, but the one that _really_ tugged at his heart was the yellow sweetie with the ears far too large for his little head and a meow like a power drill. The little thing was still stuffing it’s face with milk and making pleased sounds in-between slurps. 

Tim unrepentantly snatched him up, earning a meow in opposition to being taken from gorging itself, and cuddled the little guy against his chest. “Oh I wuv you mister kitty. We’re gonna call you Muffin. Yes we are. Or Sweetie-cake. Little sweetie! Because that’s what you are, oh yes it is.”

Jack was making sputtering sounds as if Tim had just insulted his hair. It earned a look up from the double, too happy to be ashamed of the sounds and affection he was giving to the cat cuddled to his chest and trying to escape his love. 

“What? You can’t name a cat that! He’ll be a laughingstock!”

“He’s a cat. He doesn’t care.”

“Nuh-uh, no way. Something strong and badass– _muffin_ , pfft, might as well call him Cupcake– _No_.” The smile growing on Tim’s face told Jack he was fighting an uphill battle. Stay away from the cutesy names. _Away_. “Something cool and heroic. Like lil’ badass! Oh no, Destroyer! No no wait, Bandit-killer! Little Bandit-killer! That’s a _perfect_ name for a cat!”

Though Tim’s frown went ignored by Jack, and the kitten only cared about trying to get back to the milk saucers, Tim had to admit that _bandit_ had a good ring to it. Especially if the cat grew up to steal socks or mail or even cash like his roommate’s cat in college.

As far as Jack was concerned, the cat was Bandit-Killer, badass extraordinaire, and that was nothing to be ashamed of even if Tim insisted on cuddling him and giving him cute little bow-collars and a cat-castle with frills.

Tim’s own nickname of Bandy-biddly-bopsy-bits was something the double would keep between him and the kitten. And maybe the newsletter group he joined under the name _Jimothy_. Aaaaand maybe the loader Jack had sent him to watch over the little guy when Tim was off doing badass hero stuff for the CEO.

And if the loader ever sighed over hearing the nicknames Tim called Bandit, well, the double reassured himself that robots couldn’t technically sigh anyways, and that he had an excellent taste in nicknames that a robot just wouldn’t understand regardless of whether Jack had programmed his personal taste to it or not. 

So there.

**Author's Note:**

> Make all the excuses you want, Jack. I think something deep inside is secretly pleased to start being around cats again.
> 
> [my tumblr](http://purge-that-urge-rhackathon.tumblr.com/) | [my fic masterlist archive](http://purge-that-urge-rhackathon.tumblr.com/post/134979026515/poisonjack-ao3-fic-archive)  
> (Just an FYI: you'll need to be logged in to tumblr for my blog to show up since it's marked explicit :D)
> 
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